7
Dinner was becoming more and more cryptic.
Across the vast space, in a dining room inside a mansion, sat three Entitled Ones.
The Abrasax regent to the royal parliament sat ten feet away from where brother and sister were. Servers stood in a conclave around the dining theatre. They were being serenaded by a palace singer, rendering a tune that provided neither comfort nor distraction. The truth was they needed both.
Comfort was for Khalique. She was mourning for Balem. Her eldest sibling may have been distant, reproachful and cunning, but these were all due to business and his upbringing. Balem was still their brother. During their first few centuries, he was a different man. He was a talented, dashing and openly kind brother. But it was Mother who changed him in due time; she made him rigid, stubborn, and decisive. As the eldest, he was expected to rear the empire. He was the unpronounced leader of this domain; the universe. It was his turn of reign.
Not Jupiter Jones.
Distraction was for Titus. After losing the opportunity to dispose Juipter Jones, and as the younger of the remaining heirs, he wasn't too sure what to make off of their situation: Khalique was dear to him, whereas Balem was cruel. Balem is now dead, which leaves his dear sister. Earth becomes Khalique's property, as long as Jupiter Jones dies.
Hypothetically, if he terminated Jupiter successfully, this would still leave Khalique.
"Both of you must know that your mother has full claim over earth; incidentally, all your properties now can be challenged by a re-acquirement," the regent began, slicing his food carefully. "Your mother's re-occurrence has been a fascinating discussion for the parliament, and the implication it holds. She's very cunning, that woman."
"She's not our mother. That Jupiter Jones." Khalique quipped, her voice empty of any emotion.
Titus eyes flew instantly over to his sister.
'That Jupiter Jones?' He echoed inwardly.
"Well it may be a different lifetime for her, princess, but she is most definitely the High Queen. Imagine the same body, spirit, mind and soul, but without the experiences."
"One could argue that a soul cannot be the same without its experiences, milord." Titus replied. He sipped from his goblet and resumed with his plate.
"That may be so, dear prince," the regent smiled, "but our souls never die. As your late mother's did not. Now it's back. And we must welcome this."
"Why are you here?" Khalique finally approached the subject.
Titus drank some more, staring at his sister.
"Before your mother died, she left a will: that if she re-appears in the universe as a genetic re-occurrence, parts of her estate including that of Earth's galaxy will return back to her control." The regent wiped his mouth with a napkin, and set it aside. "I'm here to inform you that your estates will remain yours and, now that Balem has passed, that his estates be divided equally between the two of you."
Titus face lit up, and Khalique's eyes widened.
"May the universe bless brother's soul." Titus raised his glass, and Khalique shot him a look.
"Under one condition, children." The regent smirked. "Balem would only relinquish his estates if you perform for him a simple task."
Titus raised a brow, "Oh I do love to give a good show, milord."
Khalique held her breath.
"Aid the Rebellion using half of the assets he provides to each one of you. Fund them, and you get the remaining half. Have no involvement, and you receive nothing from him."
The palace singer's voice has approached a crescendo. It was a lovely, smooth sound.
The servers have returned to replace their course with a new one.
Khalique stared blankly at the regent. Titus rose from his chair with a glass at hand.
"Brother, brother, brother..." he muttered.
He approached the window and drank his glass clean. "Even in death, you outdo us all."
